


Unexpected Sources

by Violsva



Category: Miss Marple - Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Schoolgirls, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2016, Younger characters, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes and Watson come across a student at a ladies' finishing school in Italy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Sources

**Author's Note:**

> Late fill for Watson's Woes [July Writing Prompt #16](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/1569701.html). Just a snippet.

Holmes and I were in Italy, in a village near Milan, at the request of an Englishman who had recently inherited property in the area. Holmes had been reluctant to take the case; it was only my strong hints that we were both in need of a rest that had convinced him to go on a working holiday before I insisted on a complete one. However, the case had shown what he called ‘points of interest,’ and we were therefore exploring the village and its surroundings, searching for things that were out of place. How I was supposed to know what was out of place somewhere I had never been before he did not tell me.

There was a girls’ finishing school just outside of town, and a bevy of English students was just preceding us on the village street, giggling and talking extremely loudly as adolescents will. Holmes was paying more attention to them than I would have expected, so I did as well.

“I don’t want him peeping in my window sometime!”

“You’re on the third floor, Ruth!”

“Is he after us at all?”

“Oh, really, Jane, why else would he be hanging around?”

“Don’t use slang, it’s vulgar.”

“Oh, come, you’re not matron.”

“It’s just,” said Jane, “that he wasn’t anywhere near the house. And I saw him, actually -”

“You _saw_ him?” This provoked a flurry of overlapping responses.

“He didn’t look like the sort,” was all Jane would say.

They turned toward a café, and Holmes stepped forward and tapped Jane on the shoulder. “Excuse me, miss,” he said. “My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague Dr. Watson. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

The other girls had entered the café; Jane hesitated and then said, “All right. My name is Jane Marple.”

“Thank you. Pardon me for eavesdropping, but I gather that a man was found on the grounds of your school recently?”

“Yes, yesterday evening. Not near the school; he’d just come over the wall.”

“The wall that borders the Vinelli estate?”

“Yes.” She looked surprised.

“And you saw him?”

“Yes. I was surprised, because he didn’t look like a peeping tom, to me.”

“What did he look like?”

She frowned. “You know the sort of man who is so focused on his business that it would never even occur to him to think of anything else?”

“Oh yes,” said Holmes.

“That’s what he looked like. I mean, he was being ejected from the grounds by the gardeners, and he didn’t look embarrassed, or upset, just a little irritated, like Mr. Hillary - the bishop’s clerk at home - when someone interrupts his calculations. I thought it was very strange. But it was that sort of resentment at an interruption, without any emotion or -” she blushed “- anything else attached, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, quite,” said Mr. Holmes. “Thank you very much. Can you describe him physically?”


End file.
